A new friend in a new country

StarPhoenix managing editor Heather Persson on a project examining World Vision projects in Uganda. This is one of a series of posts detailing her experience.

What would I do without Joseph?

Not only has he been skillfully manoeuvring crazy pot-hole laced highways and rural dirt roads as one of the drivers for our World Vision team in Uganda, but he answers even the most inane questions a bunch of tired Canadians can come up with on the road to kill time.

Most days, it is Joseph, Joanna (our team leader), Megan, Lorien and I in a Toyota truck, in search of whatever school, clinic or farm is showcasing the World Vision projects we are learning about.

Joseph is the guy with the water, which in the scorching heat of a country desperate for the annual rains to come soon, makes him about as important as you can get.

He answers questions about dress, language, customs and habits of the Ugandan people. Thankfully, we are getting to know him well enough that he will tell us if we are crossing over into private or just plain rude territory.

“Ask Joseph,” just may be the most common line used in the truck.

He loves to laugh at us when we jump to wrong conclusions, which rather than making us feel bad, makes us seem like old friends. His tall frame leans forward when he laughs, which is often, and he claps his hands when we are surprised or caught off guard. This can take a potential situation of culture shock to something entertaining instantly.

When children yelled “mazuma, mazumba” at us as we drove past, it was Joseph who explained that means “white person.” We are a novelty in this area that is seven hours drive from Kampala.

In fact there have been several times when we are the first white person children have seen, and they scream in terror. Their mothers usually think this is hilarious and push them toward us, prompting even more wailing. We all felt horrible the first time this happened, but Joseph told us not to take it personally.

More often, though, we are swamped with kids who want to hang out with us every time we leave the vehicle. Joseph has also walked us through these situations, translating for those who don’t speak English well and asking them questions. The girls approach you, take your hand to shake it and then drop into a deep curtsy. My Canadian sensibilities find this show of inequality disconcerting, but Joseph told us to accept it happily as a sign of respect.

No subject matter has been off limits so far. In fact, I was thrilled when he told us the story of how he met his wife in order to explain how dowries work in this part of the world.

“It was a market day, and I was not feeling well,” he said to start his tale.

Like all good storytellers, Joseph knows the importance of an opening line.

Suffering with a swollen, sore leg, his family prompted him to drive to the nearest hospital for treatment. He told us he spotted a village girl and started asking around about who she was. Once he found out, he went to speak to his grandmother about whether she was a suitable person to be interested in.

“If you don’t ask, you might be marrying your cousin’s sister,” he explained, adding that is a strictly forbidden concept in his culture.

Next, he had to make several attempts to get her to let him be formally introduced. Finally, she let him talk to her and they sent messages back and forth through couriers sought out at the markets to get to know each other.

Then, Joseph and an entourage of family and friends went to visit her family. They paid for the food and other costs that his bride’s family would incur from this event.

Next, her family came to his family home – but the groom is on the hook for the bill for hosting. The dowry was on the agenda for this meeting.

“They wanted 10 cows,” he said. “There was a little negotiating.”

For the record, they landed at seven.

The whole process, from spotting her to marrying her, took four months. They have been married for almost two decades. (If the marriage hadn’t worked out, the cows would go back to Joseph. Divorce means a return of the dowry.)

The number of cows a family can get for a daughter ranges between six and 10. This is not based on what the girl looks like, but largely on her level of education.

“Beauty is a decision between a man and a woman,” he explained, saying there is no one standard for what makes a female attractive. He picked his wife for her height and shade of skin. “Some men like big women, some like tall…”

I almost asked him how many cows he thinks I would get, but I know he would tell me the truth. I don’t need that number floating around in my head with my dress size and any number of other numbers that torture North American women.

Like anywhere in the world, family life in Uganda can get complicated. Joseph is expected to take care of his wife’s family even though he handed over the seven cows many years ago. He is in the middle of building his mother-in-law a house.

“The dowry never ends,” he said, not smiling quite as widely as usual.

Personally, I think Joseph’s wife is a lucky lady. He clearly loves her and his four children, and works long hours to support them and get his children a good education.

He must adore his family to stick with such a tough job. Guiding us on the rough roads is one thing. Guiding us through the details of Ugandan culture is going above and beyond.

The first day on the road with Joseph, he even helped the world seem a little bit smaller.

Popping in a compact disc, he decided to share some of his favourite music. The first song was one of my favourite gospel numbers, one that we often sing at my church.

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